


The Hard Way To Forgiveness OR The Anger of Erestor

by NirCele



Series: Revenge [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And Fails Miserably, Angst, Elrond hasn't quite figured it out yet, Erestor is even more mad, Erestor is still hurt, Gen, Glorfindel feels horrible for breaking Erestor's wrist, Glorfindel tries to apologize, Lisondrë finds a letter addressed to Glorfindel, Lisondrë is Erestor's new assistant, and she gives it to Glorfindel, and then Glorfindel reads the letter, but Erestor didn't mean for it to be given, but now he think Glorfindel is no longer his friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3501008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NirCele/pseuds/NirCele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's here, as I promised - the fourth part of the Revenge series! Erestor finds an assistant as Elrond said, while Glorfindel wonders what he has done, and dearly misses Erestor at chess night. Then, in an explosion of feelings - or weakness, as Erestor puts it - they have a Confrontation. Note the capitalized 'C.' It's important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hard Way To Forgiveness OR The Anger of Erestor

Erestor stopped in the hallway right outside the dining halls and took a long, deep breath. His face slid into the emotionless mask he usually wore, and a mask slid over his dark eyes, concealing his pain and the hurt he had felt when Glorfindel had mercilessly teased him just a moment ago. He let out his breath and straightened, walking down the corridor with strong strides. The tears that had pooled in his eyes he wiped hastily away, glad for once of his pale skin that never seemed to redden. Others he passed by noticed nothing wrong, averting their eyes hastily when they noticed the stern Chief Councilor moving down the hall with purposeful steps.

He was going to his study, the one place he felt at home and in control all the time.

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“I’ve found a suitable assistant, my Lord,” Erestor said, handing Lord Elrond the pile of reports he had completed yesterday and now simply needed to be signed and notated. “Lisondrë is one of the minor librarians, and seems to be a good worker.”

Elrond had just gotten to his study after finishing breakfast and kissing his two elfling sons goodbye and a fun day with their tutors when Erestor had given him the papers. He gave his Chief Counselor a searching look, still wondering about his hasty retreat from the dining halls. “Are you well, Erestor?”

The adviser blinked, and held up his robe-draped, casted right arm. “Not really, my Lord.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Elrond took the reports and brought them to his desk, then stood for a long moment trying to find where he would put them on the already-cluttered area. After a minute, he shrugged and piled them on top of another stack of reports that were two days old. Turning back to Erestor, he said, “Was Glorfindel being insensitive again?”

Instantly that emotionless mask slammed over Erestor’s face, and Elrond mentally sighed. There would be no getting useful answers out of him now.

“I am healing,” said Erestor, his voice impassive. He changed the subject in the next second. “Would you like to meet the assistant I selected?”

“Hm? No, I’m sure he’ll be great,” Elrond said absent-mindedly, once again losing focus on the problem before him as he looked around his messy study, trying to remember where he put those brown-flecked sharpened quills.

“Actually, it’s not a –”

“Erestor?” Elrond cut in, and Erestor raised his eyebrows patiently. He was used to his lord’s quick mood and subject changes.

“Do you know where I put those new quills from Mithlond? The gray ones with brown spots on them?”

“They’re in the bottom drawer in the right side of your desk, my lord,” Erestor said, then continued his earlier conversation. “The assistant is actually a female, if that’s fine with you?”

“It’s great!” Elrond approved, and began digging in the drawer his adviser had pointed out. Erestor thought for a moment he hadn’t been paying attention during the whole thing, but then his head came up and he added, “I like Lisondrë – she’s a good organizer. You should get along with her well.”

“I certainly hope so,” Erestor muttered. “After all, I’ll have to be putting up with someone in my study for the next four weeks.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing, my lord. Do you need me for anything else?”

“Hm…where did that bottle of ink go?”

“Next to the ink well,” Erestor said uncomplainingly. “Where is has been for the past ten years.”

“Ah, yes, there it is! Thank you, Erestor. That will be all – good day! Oh, wait, have you seen Glorfindel? He vanished right after you did at breakfast, looking quite sorry for himself.”

“I’m sure I don’t know where he is,” Erestor said stiffly. “He’s probably off cavorting with his friends and spreading tales that need not be told.”

Elrond looked long and hard at his adviser at the words he had just said. Had he detected a tone of resentment in there somewhere? Erestor just stared back at him blankly, and he supposed he must have imagined it. Since when would Erestor be bitter anyway? With a shrug, he went back to scrabbling for writing materials. “All right, then. Thank you.”

“For your pleasure, my lord,” Erestor said, nodding; then turned and left, heading for the Main library. He found just who he was looking for in the rear of the room, shoving thoughts of Glorfindel to the back of his mind. “Lisondrë,” he greeted the female elf who was flipping through a large archive that catalogued a section of the library.

The elleth looked up immediately, registering the voice as the Chief Counselor. She smiled brightly, her dark brown hair pulled back into a single tight braid. “Erestor!” she exclaimed, trotting forward and giving him a large hug.

Erestor simply tolerated it, feeling secretly miserable because of the fact that she was as tall as him, if not an inch or so higher. It wouldn’t have hurt so much except for the fact that Glorfindel had made that jab at him earlier about his height – oh, he knew he was short compared to other male elves, and Glorfindel teased him aplenty on it, but never directly in front of his other friends, and never purposely trying to hurt him. But that was what he had been doing, hadn’t he? His ‘prank’ was to be mocking Erestor in the dining hall, right where everyone could see the heartless Chief Counselor lose control of his emotions for that brief instant. And it had worked – it had definitely worked. It just made Erestor all the more sure that he never should have let Glorfindel get this close to him, actually pretending that he could be friends with someone other than Lord Elrond. Friends would never deliberately hurt each other, after all.

Well, it wasn’t as if he would know. Erestor didn’t have any friends in that sense of the word, apparently.

“It’s so good to see you again!” Lisondrë was saying, pulling back and smiling widely. Of course she was intimidated by his dark demeanor, but she simply chose not to show it – at least, not most times.

“You saw me yesterday,” Erestor felt the need to point out.

“Ah, yes,” Lisondrë agreed. Her pale blue eyes twinkled as she grinned at him, and Erestor inwardly winced. He didn’t want to deal with this type of cheerfulness so early in the day.

“I have a new job position for you,” Erestor said abruptly, turning and motioning for her to follow as he strode out of the library. She did follow, her long legs easily keeping up with him; still smiling, though her eyes marked her confusion. “Am I not doing well here? You assigned this to me when I first came, and I thought since it had been so long ago, I had been doing well.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll be going back to it within the next few months – hopefully, just one month.” Erestor glanced at her. “Do you remember last week?”

“If you’re referring to the incident with the warriors who thought sparring in the library would be a good idea, I was barely involved,” Lisondrë hurried to assure him, but Erestor shook his head.

“No, when you organized the whole section of the East Wing in a lesser library because it was ‘too cluttered’?”

“Oh.” Lisondrë gave him an anxious look. “I didn’t mean to change much – it was just that the manuscripts about the crops in Doriath were getting mixed with the accounts of the crossing of the Grinding Ice, so I fixed it. Is that what I’m getting in trouble for?”

“No,” said Erestor with a calm tone, though he wasn’t feeling very patient at the moment. He wondered if she really was this dim-witted; had he made a mistake choosing her? “At the moment, I am in need of a personal assistant due to…a health issue, so I have chosen you.”

“Me?!” she exclaimed, feeling honored and shocked at the same time. “I – thank you so much, my lord!” Apparently she had decided to start using his title. Her eyebrows furrowed suddenly. “Wait…health issue? What happened?”

Was everyone going to be this nosy? “My wrist is broken,” Erestor said curtly. “The right one, so I am unable to transcribe anything. Therefore, you will write for me. All else, I can handle.”

“Basically a glorified scribe,” Lisondrë said, nodding slowly. When Erestor cast his own version of an annoyed look at her, she added, “I really do want to help. It’s just a surprise.”

“Okay. Good.” Erestor pushed open the doors of the room he had just reached and walked confidently inside. He immediately started toward his desk – it was his study, after all. “Now that you understand,” he said to her, holding his right arm to his stomach as he began opening drawers with his left, “you may go ahead and begin. Ask me if you want anything, but I’m sure all you need is already here. Unless it’s wine,” he added.

Lisondrë thought for a long moment, then smiled and nodded. “Where do I begin?” she asked brightly, acclimating quickly to her new environments.

“We will start with a letter to King Thranduil,” Erestor said, finishing lying out his writing supplies on his perfectly organized desk, so unlike Lord Elrond’s. He scowled once more at the stain that still marred the woodwork from where Elrohir had spilled ink, but looked up at Lisondrë and gestured for her to come closer, ideas already surfacing in his mind how this would work. After all, once given a direct order from Lord Elrond, he could never refuse. And since this had been one of them – and his accursed wrist as well, he just had to put up with it.

Now that he had thought about it, Erestor realized his wrist wasn’t hurting, except for the slightest twinge when he moved too quickly. Maybe it had been that paste Lord Elrond had smoothed on it. Whatever the case, he needed to hurry and get this work down as soon as possible, then move onto the preparations for the feast of Starlight. There was much to be done, and little time to do it!

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“Bring your weapons to the racks, and then you’re all dismissed,” Glorfindel called to the young warriors he had just been instructing. The group of two dozen scrambled to comply, glad that the intense regime was over. Wooden swords clattered as they were placed into their positions, and Glorfindel frowned when he saw one of the younglings simply drop his sword into place, the tip smacking fiercely against the ground, and prepare to stride away.

“Bregolas!” Glorfindel barked, and the elf turned toward him. “Yes, my lord?”

“Come here, and bring your weapon with you,” Glorfindel ordered. He was a quite good-humored spirit wherever he was, but he was firm with his trainees and he would never tolerate a weapon being treated like a toy. This young elf was about to receive a lesson in weapons care.

The dark-haired elf looked confused for a moment, then grabbed the wooden sword he had tossed carelessly into its place and hurried to his instructor. Sympathetic looks were cast his way by others who were already leaving; they had been in his position before.

Glorfindel waited until Bregolas had stopped in front of him before he sheathed his own sword in the scabbard at his waist and snapped, “Stand at attention!”

He immediately did so, back straight and eyes directly ahead. Glorfindel circled him, looking for all the world like a great lion on the hunt. “Tell me, penneth, what do you think this,” he prodded the wooden sword the warrior held, “is?”

“Um…a training sword, my lord?” Bregolas offered hesitantly.

“Wrong!” Glorfindel faced the trainee, blue eyes glaring into light grey ones. “It’s a deadly weapon, one that can take a life, and you will treat it like one!”

“But it’s wooden,” he made the mistake of protesting.

“So is your brain!” Glorfindel roared. He had every intention of making this youngling remember this lesson for as long as he lived. “How you treat your first weapon, so will you handle the rest you have in your lifetime! Would you throw down Lord Elrond’s sword like you just did to this one?”

“No, sir!” Bregolas stammered out, trying not to cringe.

“Then don’t do it to this one!” Glorfindel considered for a very long moment whether to teach him something he would never forget, but then he looked up at the falling sun and remembered what time it was. “Give me your sword!”

Bregolas quickly offered it to him hilt-first, face flushed in embarrassment. Fortunately most of his comrades had left, not wanting him to be discomfited even more, and quite aware that the same thing had happened to them once. Glorfindel took it with a grunt, and flipped it in his hand to study the worn leather handle.

“It’s very well balanced,” he announced, which was completely unnecessary since they both already knew that, and he swung it once to prove his point. Tossing it back to Bregolas, he instructed, “I want you to bring all of the swords inside the weapons inventory and then report to the head cook for two hours of kitchen duty.”

Bregolas caught it and nodded hurriedly.

“Is that clear?” Glorfindel said right up in the youngling’s face.

“Yes, my lord! Absolutely!” With that, Bregolas bowed and saluted the Balrog-slayer, then hurried away.

Glorfindel waited until he had completely vanished before turning and striding toward the hall to his chambers, his usual broad grin growing on his face. Another trainee had been taught to never mistreat their weapon…life was good!

“Am I going to be late?” mused Glorfindel, glancing up the darkening sky just before he went into the building. “Hm – no, I think I’ll be just on time. I need to fetch that wine first, though…” He considered, then shrugged. “I’ll get it out of my room.”

Ten minutes later, Glorfindel came out of his room and headed toward the Main library, smelling a little less like a barnyard and with a large bottle of dark wine tucked under his arm. He thought as he walked. (Now, unlike what most other people thought, Glorfindel could think. He just didn’t overthink things, as he suspected Erestor tended to do).

He still hadn’t quite figured out why he hadn’t seen Erestor all day. Had the adviser been avoiding him because of the teasing this morning? Glorfindel didn’t know why that would be so, since it was what he tended to kid Erestor about whenever he managed to make it to breakfast. All of those things had been true, though, hadn’t they? Erestor had been up late last night in nothing but his night clothes, he had seen Erestor with strangely unbraided hair, and even the last part was true! Erestor barely ate anything, and he was small compared to other male elves, though relatively tall if put beside a normal human. So what was it that had apparently upset Erestor so much?

Glorfindel had no idea, but he was going to find out tonight. It was chess night, after all, and Erestor always showed up to that, no matter how much work he had. Maybe Glorfindel would even apologize if Erestor’s feelings – though he wasn’t sure if the adviser really had any – had actually been hurt, he would be forgiven, and life would go on as normal. If life in Imladris could even be considered normal.

Glorfindel opened the door to the Main library, walked inside, and shut it behind him, swinging his cloak off his shoulders. He held the wine bottle with one hand while tossing it to the nearest shelf, and cringed when it knocked a scroll sideways. Waiting tensely for a sharp reprimand in that familiar voice, Glorfindel was surprised when nothing was heard. His attention left the fallen parchment and the cloak, and he looked around the library.

It was empty. Rows and rows of shelves were absent of the dark-clad figure, with his piercing onyx eyes and ebony hair. Where was he? Oh, Glorfindel realized, looking over at the cold fireplace with the empty table that notably had no chess board being set up on it. Erestor must have had something really important to do, which would explain why he was late. He would be here soon, of course, so Glorfindel had to get everything ready! His mind made up, Glorfindel fixed his cloak on the shelf, then set down the wine bottle on the table and began preparing for the hour or so he would spend playing chess and chatting with Erestor, as they usually did.

When he finished setting it all up, he sat back in his comfortable chair and waited.

And waited.

And then he waited some more.

Glorfindel lingered almost three hours before he finally realized that Erestor was not going to come, crackling fireplace and set-up chess board nonetheless. He looked around at the two warming goblets of wine, the partially-empty bottle of wine – he couldn’t wait – and the fire burning merrily in the hearth, and he wondered why Erestor had not showed up. Erestor had never not been here! Even once when he had days’ worth of things to catch up on, he still appeared and played a game with Glorfindel before going to bed.

Worry striking through him, Glorfindel rose to his feet. The only thing that could keep Erestor from coming was physical injury…right? He was going to look for him, and discover where in the world the adviser was. Leaving the now-bitter tasting wine behind, Glorfindel strode to the door and glanced around before deciding where he would go. Where else would Erestor be but his own study?

So Glorfindel went as fast as he could – without alarming anyone – to Erestor’s personal study. He made it halfway through the door before he thought had made a mistake. Instead of Erestor sitting calmly at his desk, writing away, there was an elleth there, her dark hair tied back in a three-strand braid, sorting through a massive pile of papers. She sensed Glorfindel’s startled gaze and looked over at him. “My lord Glorfindel!” she exclaimed, immediately recognizing him. “How may I help you?”

Glorfindel wondered for a long moment who she was, then vaguely recalled that she was a librarian…a librarian! “Yes, actually, you can,” Glorfindel said. “Would you happen to know where Lord Erestor is?”

“Yes, he’s putting the next day’s reports in Lord Elrond’s office,” the maiden said, smiling. “Lord Elrond’s already gone to bed with his wife and children, but Erestor insists on making sure everything is done before retiring to bed.”

“Ah,” was all Glorfindel could manage, his confusion increasing. If Erestor was apparently well, why wasn’t he in the Main library, ready for chess night? Feeling like something odd was going on here, Glorfindel asked, “And if I may ask, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, hadn’t you heard?” she said. “I’m Lisondrë, Erestor’s new personal assistant and glorified scribe. How may I help you?”

“When did he get a personal assistant?!” Glorfindel exclaimed, feeling very left out of this loop of information.

“This morning,” Lisondrë said promptly. “I’m only temporary, though, since his wrist will heal within the next six weeks.”

“Oh, well, that makes more…” Glorfindel turned slowly to her, his blue eyes unreadable. “Wait…his wrist will heal? What’s wrong with it?”

Lisondrë wondered for a long moment if the famous Balrog-slayer was partially deranged, or if he really didn’t know. “It was broken…” she finally said slowly, cautiously.

“What?! Who broke it, and when did it happen!”

“Er…he didn’t tell me, and last night.”

Glorfindel suddenly had a most terrible sinking sensation. “Last night?” he repeated in barely a whisper. Lisondrë nodded and flipped through the papers she held, looking for a certain one. “Oh, I almost forgot. I found this in one of his drawers while cleaning…I think it’s meant for you, but it seems to have been written yesterday.” She procured an envelope from between creamy white sheets and trotted across the room, handing it to him.

Glorfindel took it and looked at Lisondrë for a long moment, noticing that she was almost as tall as him – which was odd for an elleth, since he was one of the tallest elves in the valley. He considered trying to charm her, but he sensed a bit of the same no-nonsense spirit in her that Erestor had, so he just smiled and looked down at the envelope.

To Glorfindel, it said on the front, in Erestor’s flowing, easy-to-read script. He slipped it into his tunic pocket and nodded. “Thank you, Lisondrë.”

“Welcome,” she said, absent-mindedly turning and walking while looking through the papers again. Glorfindel turned and left the study, his brow furrowed in confusion and a festering feeling of dread starting in the pits of his stomach. Erestor had broken his wrist yesterday? But when, that was what Glorfindel wanted to know! Had – oh, horror. It hadn’t been his little prank with the mithril cord that had done it, was it? Glorfindel didn’t remember seeing any type of bandage on Erestor last night – or at all, actually – so it must have been late last night.

Thoughts and ideas, then awful realizations clicked together in his mind and finally he knew exactly what had happened. Erestor, proud as he was, must have tripped over that cord, not seeing it, and broken his wrist. He had hid it when Glorfindel came, and when Glorfindel took the wire, he hadn’t known that it had been the prank! So now he…Glorfindel’s head hurt just trying to put all of this together, but the main reason sprang immediately to his mind.

He had hurt Erestor. The pranks were meant to be fun, a bit embarrassing maybe, but never to cause physical pain. And now he had literally broken his friend’s wrist and not even known! What kind of ‘friend’ was he? No wonder Erestor hadn’t wanted to talk to him this morning! Feeling quite awful, his stomach churning, Glorfindel started straight for Lord Elrond’s office. Lisondrë had said that Erestor was there, so he was going to go there and beg for Erestor’s forgiveness. Maybe, possibly, the adviser wouldn’t hold a grudge just this once and they could be fast friends again!

Right?

Glorfindel found Erestor just leaving Lord Elrond’s study, his head bowed and a few books tucked under his arm. His steps were quiet, somewhat shuffled, and Glorfindel felt even more horrible when he saw that Erestor’s right sleeve was pulled up slightly and he could see the white of a bandage wrapped around his wrist.

“Erestor!” Glorfindel exclaimed, deciding to go for the bold approach.

Erestor’s head snapped up and he eyed the Balrog-slayer with consternation. “What?” he asked finally, his dark eyes unreadable as Glorfindel trotted toward him.

Glorfindel stopped beside him, then started up again when Erestor continued walking toward his chambers. “Um…Erestor,” he started, not quite knowing how to word this.

“Yes?” Erestor asked curtly, refusing to let his mask slip yet again and let the weak emotions come through. He tugged his two books tighter, his plans on reading them quietly tonight apparently disrupted.

“I was…” Glorfindel considered for a long moment, then continued. “I was wondering why you didn’t show up tonight. It’s almost eleven o’clock…I remembered to bring the wine!” he added cheerfully, but with a guilty look down at Erestor’s wrist.

“Good for you,” Erestor muttered, although Glorfindel didn’t hear him and kept talking.

“I was…um, I was thinking about your wrist. You know, how you broke it last night.” Glorfindel bit his lip. This was going to be harder than he thought.

“What about it?” Erestor’s voice was sharp as he unconsciously remembered the jokes and the laughing this morning, Glorfindel’s ‘real’ friends roaring with laughter at Erestor’s expense, their mocking and taunting –

“…and this morning.” Glorfindel chuckled sheepishly. “Well, I just wanted to apologize for my actions and –”

Erestor stared over at him in disbelief, stopping in his tracks. Glorfindel had never expressed regret for his teasing, usually because Erestor sniped right back at him. Was he actually going to do it this time? Erestor’s eyes filled involuntarily with hope, though it was well-hidden from Glorfindel.

“So, what I’m trying to say is…” Glorfindel rubbed the back of his neck, then dropped his hand and finally blurted it out – “I’m sorry about your wrist.”

Erestor had accidentally stopped breathing when he heard the first part of that sentence, but then his anticipation suddenly crashed down around him when Glorfindel finished. He blinked, trying to make sense of what Glorfindel had said. “My wrist? But…what about this morning?”

“What about it?” Glorfindel asked, confused.

“What about it?!” Erestor cried. “Why are you talking about my wrist? What does that have to do with anything?!”

“I tripped you, and it broke!” Glorfindel exclaimed, wondering what had possessed Erestor to act like this. His request for forgiveness was not going as planned! “What else would I be apologizing for?”

“So you don’t…even remember this morning?” Erestor stared at him in disbelief. Glorfindel thought the teasing so irrelevant that it had slipped his mind? He suddenly jerked in shock. “You are the reason my wrist is broken?”

“Yes!” said Glorfindel, glad that Erestor had finally caught up with him. “I put a cord in the door, and you tripped, but when I got there, you were sitting all normal-like at the desk so I just took the cord because I didn’t think it had worked, and then –”

“Wait.” Erestor’s eyes flashed dangerously, but hurt was hidden carefully. “You broke my writing hand, then had the audacity to mock me for it this morning?!”

“What?” Glorfindel shook his head. “No, I hadn’t even known about it this morning.”

“You just said you put the cord there on purpose!” Erestor said, and his eyes slitted. “I will inform Lord Elrond of this, mark my words!” With that, he spun and marched away, his head raised haughtily and back stiff.

Behind him, Glorfindel watched with bewilderment as he left. He had absolutely no idea what had just occurred here – his head was still spinning from Erestor’s sniped jabs. Staring ruefully as Erestor stormed out of view, he concluded, out loud, 

“So…I guess that didn’t go well?”

As Glorfindel tried to figure out just where he had gone wrong in the apology, Erestor hurriedly went toward his chambers, trembling from both rage and shock. First Glorfindel had practically derided him again by purposely ignoring the fact that he had ridiculed Erestor this morning in front of everyone in the dining hall, then he had revealed – with that innocent perplexed look on his face! – that he had broken Erestor’s wrist!

So that was the prank, then? Glorfindel would actually hurt him, then have everyone else laugh at the stupid adviser’s clumsiness and his poor choice of friends? That was what had happened, after all. A real friend would never do something like that!

…Would they? Erestor forced back tears for the second time that day as he tried to think. Lord Elrond had never done something so purposely malicious, but…he was the Lord of Imladris, after all. Maybe he couldn’t – it would be too conspicuous. Maybe he just felt sorry for Erestor and that was why he never really talked to him. Oh, Erestor talked to him, but it was always and ever about work, the most recent news in surrounding areas, the politics and deliberations from Lothlórien, the newest dangers in the Greenwood – never about his personal life or something that would be…emotional.

That was it, then. Friends must do that to each other – make fun of the other in front of an audience, do a ‘prank’ with the intent of actually hurting them.

No, Erestor thought, now he was just being ridiculous. Glorfindel was the only one that did that. And he only ever did it…to…Erestor.

Oh. It was him, then. Glorfindel didn’t really want to be his friend, he just wanted someone to make fun of, laugh at their expense. He was never actually interested in playing chess with him, drinking wine, friendly banter. All of those ridiculous games, the…the ‘arm-wrestling’ game, those had all been for Glorfindel’s amusement, not because he wanted to spend time with the boring and emotionless adviser. How many of those things Erestor thought they had done as friends had been told to the general population of Imladris? How many others were laughing behind his back now, entertained by the thought of Lord Elrond’s witless Chief Counselor that didn’t know when he was being used?!

Erestor didn’t realize he was at his chambers until his vision cleared and he saw the familiar door in front of him. He stared at it for a very long time until he become conscious of wet tracks on his cheek, visible because of the slight reflection from his door-knocker formed in the shape of a sleek golden raven. He reached up slowly, the books somehow still tucked under his arm, and drew the fingers of his left hand across the streaks. He blinked slowly, sudden fatigue weighing his eyes. It was never good to cry…

Emotion was a weakness, and it could and would be used against him. The only option was to banish all irrelevant sentiment along with useless… ‘friends.’ Physical pain could be endured, but the type wrought by hurtful words was too hard to heal.

Erestor went into his room and shut the door behind him. Far down the corridors, Glorfindel stood in confusion, then finally headed to his own chambers, and he fell into bed.

It was the first time since they’d begun that they hadn’t done chess night.

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The next day began like any other in Imladris. Lord Elrond and his wife somehow managed to get their two mischievous elflings dressed for the day, came to breakfast, and began eating. The meal was accompanied by many arguments between Elladan and Elrohir, and not a few food items hurled at each other. Celebrían managed to keep them relatively calm while Elrond watched with hidden amusement and noticed in the back of his mind that his Chief Counselor was not present as usual. It wasn’t remarkable, since that was what Erestor did every day, but Elrond made a metal note to check on Erestor’s wrist.

Elrond was still wondering how that had happened, and when he saw Glorfindel sitting at his usual table with the other patrol captains. He was greeted with many smiles and laughs, and returned them, but seemed oddly subdued, very unlike him. Elrond didn’t really pay much attention, but he still…kind of was.

“I heard about that youngling you taught a lesson to,” one of the elves called to Glorfindel, and the whole table roared with laughter at the reminder. Glorfindel grinned himself, and shook his head.

“Well,” the Balrog-slayer said, “you know what I say about how to treat your weapons.”

“Believe me, we definitely do,” said another captain, and they all chuckled. A tall, brown-haired elf sitting across from Glorfindel leaned forward and grinned conspiratorially. “So, seen any more…advisers wandering the halls at nights? Maybe a specific one?”

“No,” Glorfindel snorted, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “They’re all completely normal –”

“But really!” the elf next to him interrupted. “How can we be sure you’re not just teasing us? Really, do you expect us to believe Lord Erestor was walking around at night in nothing but his night clothes?”

Elrond’s attention was immediately caught by that, and he frowned. Erestor had been walking around in his night robes? How odd! Why would he do that?

“Of course he was, I saw him. And he was going to his office,” Glorfindel clarified, then something appeared in his blue eyes; a small flame of understanding, and his jaws clicked together audibly. “Excuse me,” he said, standing and pushing his chair back. “I find that I’m not hungry.” With that, he turned and stalked out of the dining halls without even having taken a bite of his food, heading for the training grounds.

Elrond sat and wondered.

Then he was hit in the face by a piece of berry muffin, and he slowly turned his head to give his eldest son Elladan a fierce look.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

“No, write it here.” Erestor pointed to the small line underneath an article of writing, and Lisondrë bit her lip, then nodded. “Okay, I think I understand it now. Thank you.”

Erestor stood back, handing the creased paper back to her. He appeared to be about to say something else, then a knock came at the door and he glanced toward it. Striding across the room, he opened the door of his study and stared straight into the calm face of Lord Elrond.

“Good day,” Elrond said congenially, but with no noticeable happiness in his features. “Hello, Lisondrë,” he called over Erestor’s shoulder, then looked his adviser right in the eyes. “I need you to do something for me.”

As Elrond began describing the monotonous chore he needed Erestor to accomplish, he studied the Chief Counselor’s body language and posture. Erestor was slightly relaxed, but his face was a complete mask, letting nothing slip past. His eyes were steady, but seemed cold and…empty somehow. His mouth was firmly pressed; ever-patient but ready to get on with his work, and Elrond wondered what could make Erestor look so… detached, for lack of a better word. He looked like he was there in body, but his mind or fëa was somewhere far away.

“– then come tell me the details when you’re done,” Elrond finished, still carefully examining Erestor’s stiff bearing. “Can you do all of that?”

“Yes, my lord.” Erestor’s voice was cold, calm. Completely emotionless. Elrond knew his adviser was a bit aloof sometimes, but he had enjoyed seeing that in the past few months Erestor had loosened up somewhat, even laughing with Glorfindel when he thought no one was watching. And smiling. Usually around Glorfindel.

So it was Glorfindel, then. Thinking about it, Lord Elrond realized that, with his position above everyone else in Imladris – except Lord Elrond and kind of Glorfindel – as Chief Counselor, Erestor had no friends. Elrond counted himself as a friend of Erestor, but he was more of a Lord, so Erestor really didn’t have anyone…except Glorfindel, as a friend. Glorfindel and Erestor – they were good friends. To any who saw them, they would appear to be constantly arguing and sniping at each other, but Elrond and his wife seemed to be the only ones that knew they both usually enjoyed the banter, and even played a friendly chess game every…three nights, was it? Yes, so – they were friends, then.

But Elrond knew that he was missing something. Something…important, something that Erestor was not hiding, but not talking about either. After a whole night that he had spent trying to figure out what it was – besides Erestor’s broken wrist – Elrond had decided just to wait until it came to his mind. For now, he had to get Erestor to stop calling him ‘my lord.’

“Shall I have Lisondrë write up a list?” Erestor inquired in a detached tone, his dark brown eyes looking blankly at Elrond.

Apparently Erestor had…warmed…to the assistant Elrond had ordered him to get. At least he wasn’t still protesting about it.

“If you have time,” Elrond agreed. “But if not, just tell me.”

“I will do this as soon as possible,” Erestor said, bowing slightly. He straightened, formal and remote, and added, “Do you need anything else, my lord?”

Elrond mightily retained his sigh at the continued use of ‘my lord,’ but he shook his head. “No, that’s all – for now. Thank you, Erestor.”

Erestor, oddly, didn’t respond to the gratitude, but rather nodded and reached for the door. Lord Elrond stepped back, and Erestor shut the door. A glimpse of his unemotional, distant, pale face, framed by hair dark as midnight was all that Elrond saw, and then Erestor was gone.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

That night, Glorfindel, changing into his night clothes, was dropping his tunic into the basket the dirty laundry went in when he felt something crinkle under his fingers. Confusion marring his brow, the Balrog-slayer paused, lifting his tunic and frowning at it in puzzlement. He saw a slight indent in the pocket, and then he remembered.

Ah, the letter! Erestor’s assistant – Lisondrë, that was her name – had given it to him. She had…found it in a drawer of Erestor’s desk? That was odd, Glorfindel thought, pulling the creamy white envelope out of the pocket and dropping the tunic. Erestor didn’t seem like one to write something when he could just say it right out in front of someone. Just thinking about Erestor right now sent a pang of shame through his heart. He wished he knew what he could do to show the adviser that he really did regret what he had done, but…Erestor would barely even look at him now, much less talk to him.

What was this letter, then? Glorfindel read his name of the front, and he knew that it hadn’t been written less than four days ago – before all of this started, Erestor’s broken wrist, the teasing yesterday morning, the…argument. They had plenty of arguments, most quite fierce, but none had been such as awful as this last one. That one had seemed like if Glorfindel didn’t make it up somehow, then he really was going to lose a close friend. And for what? A misunderstanding? Well, it may not have been a misunderstanding, just miscommunication and all of that.

It was fine, though. Glorfindel would continue apologizing – every day, if need be – and eventually, Erestor would succumb and they would be friends again.

But this letter. This strange…letter. That was first. He needed to read that. Padding toward the closest item he could flop down on – which fortunately happened to be his soft bed – he rested against the pillows and worked the flap of the envelope open. The gumming holding it shut stuck to his fingers, and Glorfindel made a disgusted face. If there was one thing in this side of the world he hated, it was sticky, nasty things that were hard to come undone. Finally, he got it open, and he pulled the two sheets of paper out. Two? It must not be a very long letter, then.

Glorfindel opened the thrice-folded papers and began reading.

He had to stop two times and stare at the wall opposite him, uncertainty and a dawning self-horror marring his brow, but he finally finished. Then he read it again, and for the third time, he read it over, this time his hands shaking ever-so-slightly.

At last, he dropped the papers and they fluttered to his chest. He lay there for a long while, reclining tensely against his pillows, then he released a long sigh and spoke, quietly, sadly. “I believe…I may have made a mistake.”

 

I’m sorry! I just couldn’t end it happy! (plot bunny cackling in the background; I swear that thing is at least related to Sauron, maybe his long-lost twin brother/sister? We’ll never know, fortunately). Thank you so much for reading, and please comment and/or kudo!  
What should happen in the next part of the Revenge series? Should they finally make up, or the angst go on?  
Also…I’m sorry. Again. I had to make Glorfindel the kind-of antagonist. I feel terrible for making him hurt our Lovely Erestor so, but it was necessary! (Says the Liar).  
Have a great day, everyone!  
Oh! I almost forgot! In case you’re wondering what in the world was in that letter, check it out under my stories! It’s called A Letter To Glorfindel (which is kind of saying it all). Thank you for commenting and the kudos, everyone! X)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Letter To Glorfindel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3501038) by [NirCele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NirCele/pseuds/NirCele)




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